Xwing: Hero's Return
by NicholasGolden
Summary: Immediately follow the events of Xwing: Starfighters of Adumar, Wedge, Tycho, Hobbie, and Wes are called upon to train a new squadron of xwing pilots.
1. Prologue

**X-wing: Hero's Return  
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**Hiya everyone:waves: This is a second go, at my first attempt, at a Star Wars fanfic (that makes sense, really it does). If for some strange reason you happen to get hooked on this story and begin to wonder why it takes me so long to update, I apologize in advance. I write slowly, and get distracted easily...but, I've made enough progress in the past few months to warrant another go. SO! I hope you enjoy.

Oh, quick note on the rating: There shouldn't really be anything that deserves a mature (M) rating, but I didn't want to have to worry about things like that while writing, so I slapped the highest rating up there. I'll make a note before the chapter if anything is coming up that you kiddies should turn your eyes from. :)

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**Boring Disclaimer**

Sadly, I don't own the Galaxy Far, Far Away, I just dream. All characters are property of George Lucas and/or their original authors. All original characters are mine, so please ask first if you'd like to play with them.

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**_Prologue_**

General Wedge Antilles leaned back in the chair and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. All he wanted to do was go hit the fresher and fall asleep for a standard year.

"Captain..." he started with a sigh.

"General, listen," interrupted Captain Salaban with an equally exasperated tone, "I know you just got back from Adumar and that you were looking forward to some down time, but you four are the best," he said with a nod toward the three other pilots talking quietly in the far corner of the room, "and like I've told you already, this order comes from higher up; I'm just relaying the message."

Wedge sat at a small table in Captain Salaban's office aboard the New Republic ship _Allegiance_. Slightly smaller than what he would have expected, the room had a large view port directly behind the Captain's desk that managed to give him a false impression of more space. Still, with all the papers, datapads and decorations scattered everywhere, Wedge was beginning to think he'd have more room for movement in his X-wing, not to mention the added bonus of only having space for himself. Sensing that the issue wouldn't just go away on its own, Wedge sighed and leaned forward to rest his elbows on the desktop.

"Alright, even if I decide to do this, I can't speak for the other three. You're going to have to convince them yourself."

Captain Salaban smiled. "I'm sure that once they hear you're onboard, the assignment will be a bit more appealing."

Wedge threw his hands up in defense, "Hey, I said _IF_!"

"I know, I know!" laughed the Captain. "Let's see what the others think. Gentlemen," he called, interrupting the pilots' conversation, "would you join us please?"

Tycho Celchu, Wes Janson, and Hobbie Klivan ended their conversation and made their way over to the table. Salaban motioned for them to sit as he turned to address a neglected comlink at his desk. The pilots grabbed chairs to either side of Wedge and sat down offering their greetings, with Wes offering a wink and a blown kiss. Wedge just sighed and put his head in his hands.

"Hobbie, didn't I tell you to have him admitted to the med ward as soon as we got back?" pleaded Wedge.

"Wedge, we didn't have a chance, we only docked five minutes ago." Tycho reminded him.

"Besides," added Hobbie, "I'm afraid the med staff would have me brought up on charges…something along the lines of submitting them to inhumane treatment."

"Oh you would miss me too much Hobbie." insisted Wes, "you just don't want to admit it."

Ignoring the other two, Tycho turned to Wedge who still had his head in his hands.

"So, are you going to tell us what's going on here?" he asked.

"Captain Salaban's going to explain it all to you" mumbled Wedge.

Wes raised a suspicious eyebrow. "Why do I get the feeling that I should I be taking evasive maneuvers here?"

There was no answer

"Wedge…?" Hobbie whined.

Before a response could come, their private conversation was interrupted by Salaban returning from his desk.

"Gentlemen, let me start by welcoming you back to the _Allegiance_ and allow me to offer my congratulations on your successful mission on Adumar."

A chorus of "thank you Captain" was heard from the pilots.

"That being said, I'll get right to the point." Captain Salaban began a pace back and forth in front of the table. "Yesterday, I received orders from Fleet Command detailing your next assignment."

A resounding groan was heard from the pilots. Wedge couldn't help but grin.

"I understand your frustration," continued Salaban, "and I can't say that I blame you, but none the less, it's my duty to brief you."

The captain sat down in a chair on the opposite side of the table and took a long breath.

"As you four probably know, the New Republic has recently been making a large effort to improve their pilot training program. You'll remember that during the Rebellion it was just accepted that the new guys were always a step behind the experienced pilots. Back then we didn't have the time or resources to correct the problem and even after the Emperor was defeated, we continued on in the old mindset, assuming that there was nothing we could do fix it."

Salaban leaned back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head.

"Certain people in charge are finally starting to take notice. Surveys of casualty laden squadrons are showing that pilots out of flight school aren't getting enough flight hours in environments that simulate the type of precision and control needed in a combat environment."

"Sounds like the same old song and dance Captain," interrupted Hobbie, "you can teach the pilots how to fly and tell them all about combat, but there's nothing that can simulate the real thing."

"All the things blowing up..." mumbled Wes

"...all the comm chatter..." added Tycho

"...and death." finished Wedge quietly.

A solemn silence filled the room and lasted until Salaban spoke again

"That's exactly what the New Republic concluded. They've tried almost everything to rectify the problem but nothing seems to work. We're still getting the same rookie mistakes from pilots and the casualty rate refuses to drop. So, to make a long story short, the New Republic has decided to enlist the help of veteran pilots as sort-of a last chance effort to see if something different can be done to train the rookies better. As far as veteran pilots and experience go, the four of you are on the top of the New Republic's list, which means you are the first to be asked.

Tycho raised a hand, "Captain, what makes them assume that we can do any better than the instructors who have been trying for years to prepare pilots?"

"It's not that they think you can do better," replied Salaban, "so much as they think you'll be able to offer a completely different view, something that the pilots haven't been exposed to before. Like I was explaining to General Antilles, you four would have complete freedom to train them in whatever way you see fit. This program is an experimental idea, so there are really no guidelines. If things work out well here, the New Republic will probably continue with the program, but since you'll be the first to do it, you get to write the book, so to speak."

Suddenly Wes perked up. "Wait, we can do _anything_ we want?"

"That's right, anything. The New Republic will give you full freedom."

"Ooo! Wedge? Can we fly the rookies out and shoot at them? I've always really wanted to do that!" Wes was nearly jumping out of his seat in excitement as the others stared at him with looks of utter confusion on their faces.

"Uh, Wes...?" Tycho slowly started.

"No, really!" insisted a nearly giddy Wes. "Trust me! It'll all make sense." And without another word he began working away furiously on his datapad, leaving the others in stunned silence. Captain Salaban was the first to speak.

"…aaanyway, the New Republic won't force you to take this role, but they did instruct me to do everything I could to convince you to agree. Gentlemen, you are the best at what you do and the New Republic recognizes that. Any help you could offer these kids would be of great worth, most of them would give anything and everything to fly under your command."

When Wedge was sure the Captain had finished, he shook his head and grinned.

"Despite the fact that Iella will kill me, I've agreed to accept the assignment. I won't ask you three to do the same, but I could sure use your help."

Tycho, Hobbie and Wes exchanged smug glances. It was Hobbie who spoke for the group.

"Of course we'll help Wedge. Did you really think you'd have to ask? Besides, none of us want to be here when someone has to explain to Iella why you were called off for another assignment."

"Wait, I have just one request before I agree," interrupted Wes, "will you please take a look at this before you vape my idea?" He slid the datapad he had been working on down the table to Wedge who caught it and gave him a suspicious look, expecting the worst. The other pilots huddled around to get a better look. As Wedge read what was on the screen, a small smile began to play across his face. He looked up and saw the same understanding look on his pilots' faces.

"Captain, we accept." he said as he slid the datapad over to Salaban, "I'd like to make this our first training session if that's at all possible."

"Excellent!" grinned the Captain, "I'll contact Fleet Command immediately and let them know that you've accepted. I'll also put in a request for the needed supplies." he said with a tap on the pad's screen. The pilots all stood up and with the proper goodbyes, headed for the door. Wedge stopped suddenly and turned around.

"Oh, one more thing Captain, where and when can we be expecting to meet the pilots when we get to Coruscant?"

Salaban gave an almost apologetic smile. "You won't be meeting them at Coruscant General, they will be meeting us here...they're en-route as we speak."


	2. Chapter 1

_- The following is meant to be a detailed record of my time spent serving in the New Republic. In the event of my disappearance or death, I ask that this be sent to the surviving members of my family. _

_Day 1 - 17:42:51, Coordinated Galactic Time._

_Well hello everyone! I hope this record finds both you and I in good health, but if not, please know that I love you and miss you all very, very much. Anyway, enough of that, I had intended to begin writing this when I entered flight school, but it turns out there's a lot less free time than the promotional holos make you think. Don't worry though; you didn't miss much, just lots of drilling, briefings, debriefings, equipment training, and of course flying. I've never seen so many different kinds of ships in my life! I was placed into an x-wing group because they felt that's where I was best suited. I did well and graduated the academy about a week ago. I'm not the top of my class or anything but I'm not the worst either, average would be a good description I guess._

_I thought I'd end up sitting around for a while after graduation, maybe get a chance to see some of Coruscant, but it turns out I've already been placed into a brand new squadron full of people fresh out of school like me. No, we don't have a name yet, so don't go searching the holonet for news stories of our miraculous feats, haha, those will come later. We all had to report this morning for briefing where we were introduced to each other for the first time. After that, they stuck us all on a big transport and shipped us out, which is where I am right now, apparently en-route to some ship called the _Allegiance_. I don't know why we have to be taken to the ship, or what exactly we'll be doing there, but I'm sure it's just some typical new squadron stuff. Anyway, I should probably go try to get to know some of my squadron mates! I'll write again soon._

Nicho Void tapped a button on the datapad he held, extinguishing the only light source in the small room, plunging him into relative darkness. Rising from the cold deck, he slipped the datapad back into a pocket and straightened out to stretch his cramped muscles. Sighing to himself, Nicho walked out of the room he had secluded himself to and stepped into the harsh light of the transport's lounge; if that's what you could call it. The pilots' "lounge" was nothing but an old cargo hold littered with dilapidated crash couches and battered tables. Netting hung from the walls and cargo containers that had no other place to go were stacked in the corners. The walls had been hurriedly repainted the standard cargo hold grey to cover the nicks and scratches they had received from loose cargo sliding about. Nicho figured it could have been worse; at least they had been thoughtful enough to install a temporary food prep station and a 'fresher.

The other pilots in his squadron were scattered about the lounge engaged in various activities. Some were talking quietly, others reading datapads or anything else they could find, and a few were even napping. Nicho spotted an open seat on a couch that looked as though it had served as some ship's forward shields and made his way across the hold to claim the seat. As he approached, the pilot occupying the other seat on the couch slid over to make more room without looking up from his reading. Nicho slumped down into the seat, surprised by the comfort it provided, and kicked his feet up onto a nearby table. After five minutes of silence and a dozen attempts at finding something to entertain himself with, Nicho surrendered to his curiosity and leaned to his left to try and catch a glance of what the other pilot was reading.

"It's a recipe for a dish from my homeworld." came the answer to Nicho's unasked question.

"Personal favorite of yours or are you just into cooking?" he asked, trying hard to start a conversation.

"Neither really," replied the alien with a short laugh, "I'm just bored out of my mind." He tapped a few buttons on his screen, turning it off, and slipped it into some hidden pocket in the sleeves of his garment. Turning toward Nicho, he stuck out a very large hand and introduced himself.

"Aurto Barills," he said with a smile, "I know we've done this before but I forgot your name and I'd rather ask now than wait two weeks and feel really awkward later."

"No problem," Nicho replied with a genuine laugh as he took Aurto's hand, "Nicho Void, nice to meet you…again. You said that was a recipe from your homeworld right?"

"Yes. Nothing special, it's just something to help with the homesickness."

"Yeah, I know that feeling." Nicho responded with a sigh. "Where is it you're from?" Nicho didn't consider himself traveled by any means, but he liked to think that he recognized a fair amount of the galaxy's species. His new friend's origin however, escaped him entirely. With large hands and tough, leathery looking skin, Aurto was a humanoid in appearance. He had a very muscular neck supporting a set of down-turned horns emerging from either side of his head, giving him quite a fearsome look. Luckily for Nicho, Aurto's looks apparently didn't reflect his disposition. With a friendly smile, Aurto turned to face Nicho a little better.

"I am Iktotchi. My homeworld is the moon of Iktotch, near the Brak Sector."

"Is that mid rim?"

"Nope, Expansion Region, right off the Corellian Run."

"Oh sure, I've got some friends out that way." Nicho said, finally registering the planet's location. "Are you living there now?"

"Sadly, no." responded Aurto. "I've been living on Coruscant for several years now. I originally came to Coruscant with the plan of starting my own hover-taxi business but once I got there, I found out my account was a bit short on credits."

"So what'd you do…?" asked Nicho, glad to finally have a conversation to entertain himself with.

The two pilots continued on with their conversation, hitting on all the details of Aurto's hover-taxi business plan and the things that had gone wrong with it. At Aurto's questioning, Nicho explained his homeworld to him, noting that like Aurto, he had moved to Coruscant a few years ago.

"It wasn't a very hard move for me though," continued Nicho, "Coruscant's very similar, just with a lot more buildings and people and stuff…" Nicho trailed off as he gave a nervous shrug, suddenly realizing that he didn't much want to talk about home. He was grateful Aurto didn't push the subject. After a brief silence, Nicho asked, "Aurto, what do you know about the other pilots here?" Aurto twisted in his seat to try to find a more comfortable spot.

"The girl sleeping in the chair over there is Callista Bree. She was in my class at flight school but I didn't get to know her until right before graduation. We met at a celebration dinner…" explained Aurto with the hint of a smile on his face.

"Ah, catch your eye did she?" Nicho asked, grinning at him.

"Yes…with a right hook."

"What! _She_ threw a punch at _you!_" Nicho asked as he burst into laughter.

"Threw and connected…hard."

"You have got to be kidding me" replied an unbelieving Nicho. "There is no way that sweet, innocent looking girl hit you!" Looking at his friend, Nicho couldn't imagine himself attacking the huge Iktotchi and surviving for more than five seconds, much less Callista. Nicho himself wasn't a large man by any means, but his compact body and athletic build made him more than capable of handling himself in a fight. Callista though, hardly seemed like an imposing figure. Looking to be below average height with little muscle mass showing, she looked as though she belonged on a vid screen endorsing some beauty product rather than in the cockpit of an x-wing. The long brown hair pulled back into a tight pony tail and angelic features that composed her face didn't help to convince Nicho that she was a trained warrior. Still, perhaps the petite girl wasn't as delicate as she looked.

"Top of our class, graduated with honors," continued Aurto "and I wouldn't be surprised if she hunts Krayt Dragons in her down time. I heard rumors that the guy she was dating in flight school tried to make a move on her and wound up with an arm injury that bacta couldn't fix. Her friends say she's as loyal as they come, but you don't want to get on her bad side."

"Good to know." replied Nicho as he eyed the sleeping girl with a little more apprehension.

"Other than her, I don't know much about anyone really, a few names and homeworlds but you're the first one I've had a chance to sit down and talk with." admitted Aurto. Leaning forward, he pointed subtly to a knot of pilots standing and talking on the far side of the hold. "Those three seem to know each other from flight school. I don't know who the male on the left is, but the one standing next to him is Vosh…Oligard I think it is. I'm not sure where he's from though, I'd guess Coruscant by the looks of him. The female Chagrian standing with them is Malani D'jek."

With blue skin and thick pointed lobes, the Chagrian was hard to miss. Nicho silently wondered how Mevaki was able to wear a helmet.

"Must be modified." Interrupted Aurto absentmindedly, again answering Nicho's unasked question.

"How do you do that!" asked an openly baffled Nicho.

Aurto chuckled and began an explanation that Nicho felt was well rehearsed. "Members of my species are born with a sort of…precognition. Like most species specific skills, our ability to tell the future varies greatly between individuals. I myself am not able to tell the future at all, it's actually a rare gift that few possess and that even fewer can use accurately. The strange thing is that our precognition weakens as we move farther away from Iktotch. As you've noticed, I have a unique ability to know what someone's going to say next, comparable to what you humans call déjà vu. The difference is that it's much clearer for me and it happens more often, depending upon how far I am from Iktotch." He shrugged and gave a slight laugh. "I find it slightly annoying actually; it's not very useful and people always assume that I'm able to read their mind or something."

Aurto grew silent and Nicho took the hint, not wanting to push his new friend into talking about sensitive issues. The silence was just beginning to get awkward for Nicho when a voice came over the comm. system announcing that the docking process with the _Allegiance _was beginning and that the pilots should make sure their gear was in order for departure. Standing from their seats, the two pilots shook hands and went about their business. Nicho wandered over to the wall and pulled his bag of personal effects out of the spot he had left it in the crash webbing. Slinging it over his shoulder and falling in line with the other pilots, Nicho felt a slight bump as the transport docked with the Allegiance. He could feel his anxiety steadily rising as the line of pilots and crew members slowly made their way out of the ship. Pausing at the doorway, he couldn't help but shake his head and laugh at himself for acting like such a rookie. _What's your problem?_ He thought to himself. _It's just the beginning of your entire career..._

Taking a deep breath and smiling slightly, Nicho stepped away from the transport and toward the rest of his life.


End file.
